


(Not A) Sweetheart

by xyliane



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blood, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, just a bit, tumblrfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:21:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xyliane/pseuds/xyliane
Summary: Leorio tries out nicknames. Kurapika disagrees.





	

There are plenty of things Leorio has learned about Kurapika over the years. That he’s most talented when fighting with chains but prefers sparring with those stupid bokken. That he handles a doctor visit almost like a cat handles water. That he handles paperwork almost entirely by giving it to whoever is unlucky enough to be in arm's reach. That the rest of the world might think that his eyes are the most beautiful things in the world, but Leorio knows they can’t hold a candle to the rare genuine smile.

But one thing that takes years to learn is that odd quirk between his eyebrows when he’s hopelessly confused by something outside of his control. Like the first time Leorio calls him "sweetheart."

Leorio has never considered himself the sort to call people pet names. It’s always seemed silly.  But the word falls out of his mouth, in the midst of cursing and pleading and demanding that Kurapika not die like a thrice-damned idiot from a stupidly ridiculous stab wound that just happened to nick an artery, and he doesn’t even notice it until Kurapika shuts up and stares slack-jawed like Leorio's sprouted rainbows out of his ears and begun singing showtunes.

Not that it helps that Kurapika is bleeding from about a dozen other lacerations and is mildly delirious with blood loss, or that they’ve only been really dating for about a week and change, or that the full sentence is something like _if you bleed to death sweetheart I will drag you back from hell myself_.

If nothing else, it works long enough to get Kurapika to stop arguing that his life is worth less than the half-dozen or so fools who were idiotic enough to try to kill him. They will not be recipients of Leorio’s world-class healing skills. Not that Leorio’s bragging or anything, but he was trained by some of the best Medical Hunters in the world. He can do a lot with very little.

Kurapika deserves every bit that Leorio can give, even when he's not bleeding out.

Neither of them mention it later, when they lie utterly exhausted in the back of a truck on the way back home, limbs tangled and neither of them prepared or willing to move much save for the jostling as the truck goes over yet another pothole. They’re alive, they’re mostly whole, they’ll be back home within a few days, and most importantly they’re scant hours from soft beds and a _shower_. But Leorio can’t stop thinking about it, or the weird expression Kurapika made.

“Hey sweetheart…” he starts, and Kurapika sits up so fast they knock heads, Kurapika’s forehead straight to Leorio’s chin. They both spring away from each other as quickly as their injuries and the truckbed allow, which isn’t very far at all.

Leorio feels like his jaw might be a little out of whack, but Kurapika’s holding onto his head like it might have been split open (again). He wriggles his chin back and forth. It doesn’t feel like a fracture, but it hurts like Kurapika’s head is made of diamond. Resisting a crack about hard-headed idiots, he manages, “You okay?”

The other man nods, although his eyes water in pain. “Fine,” he says, and rubs a growing lump. But then he turns just enough to run a hand along Leorio’s jawline, tickling the coarse hairs along his chin. “And you?”

Leorio leans into the touch. “Yeah, I’m good,” he says. He lets Kurapika gently trace the outlines of his face and the day-old beard that really needs to be shaved as soon as they get somewhere with a mirror. Or running water. “Is this because I called you—”

“No,” Kurapika bites off, pulling his hand back from Leorio as though he’s been set on fire. Leorio raises an eyebrow, trying not to smile.

“Not a fan of sweetheart?” Leorio asks.

Kurapika bristles. “I’m not a…a sweet. Or a heart,” he says like he can’t believe they’re having this conversation.

Leorio disagrees vehemently, not least because he is regularly drafted into Kurapika’s meticulous attempts at gift giving whether he wants to be or not. The week before Melody’s birthday had been frustratingly confusing before Leorio figured out why he kept getting texts of flute cleaning cloths from multiple unlisted numbers. And of course Kurapika didn’t answer when Leorio tried to contact his _actual_ phone.

Leorio shrugs. He can keep Kurapika’s secret sweetness to himself. “Alright, sweetheart is off the table. Could I try something else, though?”

For once, Kurapika nearly infinite stubbornness meets Leorio’s grin, and it fractures. “If you must,” he mutters.

Leorio’s smile widens, and he throws an arm around Kurapika’s shoulders to drag them flush together. Kurapika lets out a little astonished huff of surprise that might have been a laugh. “You got it, babe.”

The sound that gets is definitely a laugh. “No, Leorio.”

“Darling?” he offers.

“No.”

“Lovebird.”

“I’m not a bird, either.”

“Honey cheeks?”

“Decidedly not."

Leorio pauses for a long moment to consider what remaining possibilities he has that won’t end with him tossed out the back of a moving truck. “What about dreamboat?”

“ _Leorio_.” He shivers slightly at the sound of his name on Kurapika’s lips, exasperated and fond and the slightest hint of an accent that makes his name into something so much more.

Despite the frustration in his voice, Kurapika looks like he’s trying his hardest to not laugh. Leorio grins. “Yeah?”

A flush spreads over Kurapika’s face until he’s as red from ears to collared shirt, and he breaks eye contact. “You calling me my name is entirely fine,” he says to Leorio’s tie.

“What, like…Kurapika?” Leorio can’t help but find this adorable. But like Kurapika’s existence as a bonafide sweetheart, he’ll keep this one locked up in his heart for himself. “You only had to ask, you idiot.”

A smile tugs at the edge of his lips, and Leorio calls this a victory. “So I’m asking."

Their fingers lace together, Leorio's thumbs running over the callouses on the back of Kurapika's hand. His skin is always softer than Leorio expects, even ridged as it is from chains. “Alright, Kurapika.”

Kurapika sighs almost like a purr. “That’s all I need.”

“Kurapika,” Leorio repeats, and leans in until he can see faint rings of red around brown-gray irises. “Kurrraaaapika.”

“I…Wait, Leorio—”

“ _Ku._ Ra _._ Piii _ii_ _——_ mmph! _”_

Leorio learns fairly quickly that if all he has to do to win a kiss from Kurapika is to call him his name, then well. That’s not too difficult at all.

**Author's Note:**

> unused nicknames: cuddlebuns (Kurapika does not _cuddle_ he _paces. angrily._ ), sugar snap (angry peapod Kurapika), snookums (Kurapika socks him). 
> 
> [wrote this ages ago for leopikaweek2016](https://xyliane.tumblr.com/post/151316775653/not-a-sweetheart) and I keep meaning to upload my ficlets and whatnot to ao3 so here's at least one of them. haven't decided yet if I'm uploading the other stuff yet.


End file.
